Words Fell
by Bellsie805
Summary: She knew that diamonds were a girl's best friend, but she also knew that it were the stars who were a woman's constant lover. WilsonCuddy


**Author's Note: **A meandering little piece that just kept going and going. Wilson/Cuddy fluff…not my usual House/Cameron pairing, but these two are so much easier with whom to work.

_Words Fell_

_Like roses at our feet_

_When you let me see you cry_

_Your silent lips against my cheek_

_Words Fell_

_On a night as black as coal_

_Your kisses traveled deep_

_Your eyes pierced my soul_

_Words Fell_

Wilson hung his head and kept his eyes focused on the ice in his glass. The less he had to look around the more he could focus solely on his pain.

Julie had left him. The house he had walked into when he came home from the hospital was empty—devoid of both Julie's items and emotion. There were lighter squares and rectangles of color on the walls where pictures of him and her once hung. When he rushed to the bedroom, he found a dusty space that once contained her many shoes. He looked desperately for a note and discovered one hanging on the refrigerator. It was simple, like Julie, and it didn't elaborate much.

_James,_

_The papers will be in your hands tomorrow. Take the house; I'll be at my mother's. Don't try to come get me. It's over. _

_Julie_

He reached into the bowl of peanuts next to him, and removed two. The note had killed him more than the physical fact that Julie was gone. Love, Wilson had learned, was something for which he was an unnatural sucker. Even the kind of broken love Julie and he had had was love. They loved each other enough to get married and have the facsimile last for a few years. But now, it was his libido and her need for attention that found him sitting in a bar, eating peanuts he knew dirty fingers had touched. He was so absorbed in his drink and the criss-cross pattern on the shell of the nut, that he noticed nothing else in the dark, wood-paneled room.

He pressed his fingers in the middle of the peanut, where the depression between the two nuts lay. The shell cracked and he removed the brown nuts from their reddish casings. He popped them in his mouth and chewed them, grinding them into peanut butter with his teeth.

"Having a good time? My best oncologist really shouldn't be getting smashed on a work night."

Wilson looked up from his peanut dissection to find that Cuddy had suddenly appeared next to him. She had apparently been at the bar for more than five minutes because she held a half-drunk vodka with two olives in it. She took a sip.

"And you're not drinking?"

She shot him the don't-tell-me-I'm-a-hypocrite-that's-House's-job look.

"Long night."

"Mine's been longer."

"What happened to you?"

"You first. Mine's going to be worse."

Cuddy took out the plastic sword that contained her olives and slipped one off

into her mouth.

"Olives are my favorite part of the drink. Anything and everything I drink must come with the olives."

Wilson cast her a look.

"Fine, fine. My boyfriend left tonight—and took the dog with him. Son of a bitch. I liked Foss, too."

"Foss?"

"The dog."

"Oh."

"Yours is worse?"

"Julie left. She didn't take the dog."

"Jesus! My God, Wilson, I'm so sorry."

"It was bound to happen."

He took another peanut. Cuddy put her hand over his.

"Please, don't eat that."

He looked down at her hand on his. The long, French-manicured fingers lay perpendicular to his knuckles. He raised his eyes to look into her cloudy ones.

"Lisa…"

She turned her head away towards the bartender and flagged him down with a flick of her other hand.

"Yes?"

"Another vodka on the rocks. Make sure you put olives in there, please."

The bartender nodded and wiped his hand on his apron. He moved to get her another drink. Cuddy turned her head back around to face Wilson. She removed her hand from his to finger the necklace that hung gently from on the slope of her collarbone.

"It's pretty," Wilson told her.

She looked at the necklace and smiled tightly at him.

"It's Tiffany's. I get myself little pity gifts every once and a while. I wear them when I feel bad enough."

Wilson looked as her deft fingers caressed the star-shaped emerald. Julie hated emeralds, he remembered; she preferred rubies—fiery, passionate, and expensive. Emeralds, he remembered were prized for their amazing green color. They were tangibly weakest of the precious gems, but intangibly the strongest.

"It's an emerald," he whispered softly, reverently.

"Yes," she replied to Wilson, "thank you," she uttered to both he and the bartender as the bartender gave her her drink.

She dropped the emerald star and lifted the drink to her lips; she did not care that the small napkin it came with was attached to it by condensation. She deftly plucked the olives out of the glass as the vodka splashed against her lips, begging entrance. She opened the gates that were her lips and Wilson watched as the liquid disappeared swiftly. Her eyes closed briefly and he averted his gaze back to his own half-drank Stoli. He looked back at Cuddy and noted her flushed face and the small smile growing across her face.

"Emeralds are the birthstone of May," he told her.

She looked into his eyes.

"That's why today's such a terrible day. Joseph broke up with me on my birthday. May 21, 1967. I started out wearing this today because it was my birthday and this is my birthstone, but now, wearing this today means even more—I wear it after break-ups because emeralds are said to help with new beginnings."

She bitterly laughed and he cringed, for it was wild and unrestrained. It was a drunken guffaw and he knew she had had too much to drink.

"Happy birthday."

"Thank you. Another useless year."

He decided to change the subject.

"Rubies were Julie's favorite."

"Right. I'm so sorry again about her. I am so self-centered."

She grabbed his hands away from his drink, accidentally bringing his elbow up too fast and knocking the whiskey over onto the bar's counter. She gasped and used her own sleeve to start dabbing up the spilled liquor. Wilson caught her wrist with his left hand and grabbed one of the napkins with his right, dabbing at the counter gently. He flagged the bartender down as Cuddy looked on with horrified eyes.

"How much is our tab?" He asked gently.

"$15."

Wilson let go of Cuddy's hands and the napkin. He rose slightly on the stool and rummaged in his back pocket. He removed a $20 bill and handed it to the portly man.

"Keep the change," he told him.

The bartender pocketed the money and wiped down the spilled whiskey with a dexterous sweep of his towel. Wilson watched him walk off and take the money from his pocket and put it into the cash register, removing the $5 tip.

He stood up from the stool and took Cuddy's hand. She reluctantly followed him off her stool and looked longingly back at the alcohol-filled bar. Wilson kept his eyes on the door and managed to find them to the front of the bar and out the door.

The cold air whipped Cuddy's warm face. She instantly clutched Wilson's hand harder. Wilson was internally grateful that he had someone to worry about—if he didn't, he feared that he'd be drowning in self-pity back in the bar.

"Did you drive here?" He asked her.

"No, I walked from the hospital."

He noted that the hospital was about half a dozen blocks from this bar. He took in her shoes.

"Prada?"

"Manolos. I know, long way to walk. I took a cab over. You?"

"I walked. My house is only two and a half blocks from here."

Cuddy nodded her head.

"I'd like to walk."  
"Me too."

The two started to walk slowly. Wilson kept a comforting arm around Cuddy's shoulder, and she let her head fall against his chest. The only sound that either could distinguish was the clicking of Cuddy's heels against cold concrete. Wilson felt her heart beating and the warmth of the star emerald pulsating against his white Polo shirt.

"Emeralds also have the power to show a suitor's true intentions. Is that why you wear them after break-ups?"

Cuddy kept her eyes focused ahead.

"Of course. Is that why you wear your yellow tie when you drink after the impending divorce? Sunshine and happiness?"

"Have you ever eaten the sunshine?"

Cuddy looked towards him with a hint of a grin in them.

"No, but have you ever eaten the moon?"

"No, can't say I have."

She stopped suddenly and Wilson almost went face first into the sidewalk. She looked up to the sky.

"You should try."

Wilson glanced around. They were now only a block from his house and near a park. The lights from the surrounding buildings seemed surprisingly dim. He followed the curve of her neck to the moon.

"How do you eat the moon?" he asked quietly.

"You close your eyes and open your mouth."

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

"And you must believe."

Her voice imperceptibly echoed from just beyond his ear.

"Can you taste it?"

He opened his mouth wider and swallowed gulps of air. It wasn't until her lips closed over his that he tasted the wavering moonbeams.

The kiss was soft and mysterious—it was silver, craters, and golf balls hit off the surface of the moon. She touched his cheek and he wrapped a strong arm around her waist. She tilted slightly on her heels and broke the kiss, giggling softly.

"Isn't the moon delicious?"

"Yes. But you should try the sun sometime, too."

"I promise I will."

"C'mon, let's go. We're almost to my house," he told her with the sound of urgency in his voice.

"Why the rush?" She questioned, tugging on his arm to make him stop.

"I want to show you something."  
His playful eyes engaged hers.

She smiled and took his hand.

Together they walked to his house. /

Wilson led Cuddy into the bare living room. She watched as he slightly flinched when he remembered everything that was gone.

"Take off your shoes," he told her.

She kicked off her shoes and looked imploringly at him.

"Meet me on the balcony," he gesticulated towards the sliding French doors.

She watched him disappear and went to stand on the balcony. She slid the doors open.

The view was breathtaking. It overlooked the park and beyond, enabling her to see far. She realized that because his house faced the park and away from the city, she could see the stars.

As a young child, Cuddy's first love had been the stars. Even after her parents' divorce, break-ups with many boyfriends, and bad days at work, the stars remained twinkling in their black satin sheets.

Diamonds are a girl's best friend, she knew, but a woman's lovers were the shining, constant stars.

The unscrewing of the wine bottle's cork announced Wilson's reappearance. She kept her eyes focused upward. She heard the gurgling of the drink being pored into a glass.

"Merlot…Thank God I hid one bottle from Julie," he said as he moved to stand beside her. He handed her the goblet. She took it and sipped gently from it.

"I see you've discovered my secret," he told her, drinking his own wine slowly.

He noted her posture was Catholic-school straight, as usual. Even if the alcohol had tampered with her personality slightly, buckets of vodka apparently wouldn't crush her tension and her well-versed habits.

"Yes. I've always loved the stars. There's Leo, the Gemini Twins, and, if you go to the Big Dipper's handle you can…"

"Arc to Arcturus," Wilson grinned as he finished her sentence.

"Yes, yes that's what you do," she replied and a sad smile crept through her features.

"I know you're not usually a romantic, but," he paused, "Julie forgot to take _Casablanca _with her when she left. And seeing as how we've both had crappy days with love, I believe it's the perfect movie for us."

"I love that movie," she told him.

"More than the stars?"

"Never more than the stars."

"I'd say we could gaze at them all night, but I figure it's better for us to lounge on the carpet than on the concrete of this balcony," Wilson told her.

"I have to put up with House daily. A small pain the back is so much better than Mr. Pain-in-the-Ass."

Wilson laughed and removed his jacket, laying it down on the ground. He put the wine bottle next to it and sat down. He patted the small space next to him. Cuddy flicked her long, black hair back and put her hand on her hips.

"Make me."

He smiled and lifted his torso up, bending his knees to keep him steady. He pushed himself up and stood. She removed her hands from her hips, letting them dangle helplessly at her sides. He took his hands and ran them over her jacket-covered shoulders, and slipped them under it. The tweed jacket fell to the ground, leaving Cuddy standing in her white blouse. He ran his hands down her arms until he reached her hands. He intertwined his fingers with hers and pulled her down to the ground slowly and carefully.

She lay on top of him for a mere moment before rolling to lie next to him. The two stared up at the infinite numbers of tiny specks of light peppering the darkness of space. Cuddy snuggled up against Wilson's chest as he moved his arm to cushion her head. She planted a kiss on his shoulder.

And they fell to breathing in unison—together, silent, beautiful, and heartbreaking. Their earlier heartbreaks, magnified in glasses of alcohol and ice, receded and took cover from the shelling of newfound hope, of comfort.

Yes, heartbreak withdrew, replaced by the small satisfaction of the burgeoning feeling of a new beginning among the shattered pieces of an old ending. Emeralds and stars shone brilliantly that night.


End file.
